


All Wrong

by write_light



Series: Dark Heat [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-19
Updated: 2008-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write_light/pseuds/write_light
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Part of a trio of stories, including "Dereliction" and "Dark Heat".</p>
    </blockquote>





	All Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a trio of stories, including "Dereliction" and "Dark Heat".

He kept his eyes closed for most of it, not to see Sam better in his mind, because Sam was right there, plain as day, but to avoid seeing the man on the floor in front of him, who was not Sam. The night hot and still, he drifted, wave after wave of empty pleasure beating the strength out of him, pulling him farther from shore, into a stupor that didn't make him come. He breathed in, huffed out hard, and went back to that morning, to Sam drooling on the pillow, and his fantasy of licking that still-warm, musky saliva, following the thread up to Sam's lips, and into that mouth, all slow exhales and inhales and his at last. Sam, in his head, didn't "dude" him, "wtf?" him, he just floated up to consciousness and moaned softly, not even really awake, Dean's lips pressed into his, a hand on his back, his neck, his jaw. Dean's tongue was delving into that warm, safe place that meant he'd made it, that Sam was his, that it was all going to be okay. He gripped the arms of the chair, hands tight but neck loose and lolling as he burst, into a mouth he despised, a mouth he took in lieu of the other, in hopes of the other, even when there was no hope. Two minutes after the bullshit, the swigs of beer and the buckle fumbling, he'd shot; the man was pissed, expecting so much more from a hot piece like Dean. He chased him out the door, cursing him, hurling a bottle, until Dean was in the Impala, ass on the cold seat, sticky underwear at thigh-level, wondering why, on so many levels.


End file.
